prayer for guidance

Prayer for Guidance

Vishnu, protector and preserver of humanity, guide us in our paths.
When I am a child, keep my innocence safe
So I can trust in the light
When I am a student, keep my mind open
So I can learn the path I am meant to be on
When I am family bound, help me to respect
Those around me and hold them near.
When I am an elder, show me your wisdom
That I may pass it on
And when I am an ascetic, keep me humble
And free from all distractions
Bound by prayer and service
May I worship you in all your incarnations
Thru the ages of humanity
Thru the cycles governed by Brahma and Shiva,
keep me safe as things are born and as they die.
For I have no power and I need your arms around me
So I can live free, instead of hide
In my own insecurities.
May I be at peace, calm in my soul
So I can best serve you.

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for the band

For the Band (a story)

Geoff was the roadie for a really cool band, that made him proud to belong to, when they were on stage. Or when they were giving interviews. Their name looked good on his resume and his friends had lots of questions for him when he was home. He was often asked for autographed pictures of them.
But he didn’t talk much about the band. He got kind of snarly when prodded.
His friends thought that was weird, cuzz the band seemed like such cool people. They had such charm when they gave interviews and their stories seemed so cool between sets. Their jokes were just the right tone between raunch and propriety. Just a bit on the off colour side of life.
Even people who didn’t like their music thought they seemed like good people to hang out with. Their parties were legendary.
And it was more than Geoff could take. He was looking for a new job. One where he didn’t feel so smarmy.
The odd thing was, there was no gossip out about the band. He figured their lawyer was really good at hushing things up, or the people they mistreated were so hurt they didn’t dare speak up. He wondered if it would make any difference if he offered to support any claims they made. But Geoff had signed a waiver and he knew he’d never work in the industry again if he spoke up.
Finally, he found a new band he wanted to work with and pulled the band leader aside to give his notice. He saw a really strange look in the leader’s eyes. And got a bit worried. Geoff made it clear that he just wanted a new challenge and nothing he knew would ever come out. He swore it up and down. And the leader’s eyes got weirder, not calmer.
So Geoff left. His attempts at reassurance didn’t seem to be working. So he stopped talking.
Geoff went to the liquor store and got some takeout and went back to the hotel he was staying in. He booked his flight home and sat down to watch a movie, while he ate and had a few drinks.
And he fell asleep….
Or did he?
He became aware again when he opened his eyes and looked around him. He saw a rocky cave and lights of many fires in the warren. He saw skulls and bones around as well. He tried hard to wake himself up, but couldn’t seem to. He was stuck in the cave. Screaming for help. Till he couldn’t scream anymore.
The band leader reported Geoff missing the next day. He must have felt he had to. For appearances sake. Because they weren’t even on friendly terms, let alone friends. And Geoff was leaving the group, the band. So why not just let him fade off into obscurity?
The last thing the cops found of Geoff was his fingerprints on the bottle of hooch he had drunk from and his pee in the toilet bowl he hadn’t flushed. And his clothes in the bag he had packed so he could go out to the airport in a rush the next morning.
Geiff never made his flight. Never picked up his rental car. Or checked out of the hotel. The room was paid for by the band. So it’s not like he was skipping out on the bill. There was no need.
Geoff’s credit cards were never used again. And it’s not like Geoff was rich. I mean roadies make a decent salary for a big named band, but they aren’t likely to have a lot of money, unless they’re embezzling. And nobody found evidence of that in the band’s books.
So he became a question that was asked now and then when a reporter had nothing else to ask. Or a fan had a fond memory of Geoff getting them an autograph or some piece of merch they wanted. And he was remembered kindly
for not asking for a blow job to do the favour. Geoff was always remembered as a good man.
So where did he go? Nobody knew… except maybe the band leader?

beyond good and evil… missile strikes pending

beyond good and evil …missile strikes pending

Blame it on shows like
Charmed and
Supernatural

I don’t think that good and evil is a divine concept. I’m pretty sure it was built in the day when humanity was superstitious. When they told monster stories to keep their kids near the campfire. It is what they had to tell themselves to explain a universe that was out of their control. (I’m not sure that day is over). It is why they practiced magic. It is why magic bred science.
I think/believe that the gods are something beyond good and evil. And that idea is what makes me enjoy shows like the above, because they often deal with concepts that are beyond good and evil. And they show how easily the line between the two is blurred, even by the divine. They also often had the demons and angels working together for a greater purpose.
And how sometimes, believing in the linear concepts can in fact lead to more evil than considering the divine as something larger does. If humanity created that concept and the gods were there only to breed us and create our universe, then I also have to wonder how much they really do intrude into our lives. Perhaps they’re off creating a new multiverse, and don’t even know what is going on here today.
If it is our concept, how do we get beyond it and start seeing the broader picture? How do we let go of the monsters and treat each other with more compassion and empathy? More understanding?
Those are the things I ponder as we seem to be heading toward yet another conflict. Since Trump (USA, UK and France) has just authorized missile strikes against Syria. Supposedly to reduce the possiblity of chemical warfare. Yet Trump is always after Syria. This just seems like another petty excuse for his/their bigotry to me. I guess if you poke the bear often enough, you get them a bit panicky and stock piling weapons. Then you get to go after them for having the weapons. Didn’t Bush do this too? (rhetorical question, cuzz you know he did, right?)
What do you get to do in the name of being holy… good… right… without being seen as the evil you fear? I guess that is the largest question of all in this. on the eve of yet another campaign.

peg aint a lady’s name here (erotica)

Peg aint a lady’s name here

Brad had been waiting all day for his dream to come true, and hoped it actually
would, as he wanted it. The fantasy kept playing thru his mind as he got ready.
First he did some manscaping. He knew this domme liked a bit of hair and mustaches were cool, but not too much. And he wanted to please her. So he paid attention to his grooming.
He knew he did not want any accidents, so he gave himself an enema, early in the day. And ate very lightly afterwards. He didn’t have much feces to spare, cuzz he was regular as clockwork. This was just a precaution. He had some gas and a bit of pressure in his belly afterwards, but it was soon over.
When he was sure he had succeeded at cleaning himself out, he showered and made sure any sweat odours were gone. Then he put gel in his hair, so he felt neat and clean.
He gathered his supplies; the cage, the condom catheter, the rope and put them in a bag for the appt,
And then he dressed. He wanted to look good for her. Brad was a pleaser that way.
He walked out to his car and made sure he had remembered everything before he pulled out of the parking spot at his condo. And drove to her place.
Brad was surprised when she ran out to the car, and was worried that plans had changed.
She told him to drive to a renovated warehouse and park in front of the loading bay doors. Brad’s head drooped and he thought the fantasy would happen another night. And he tried to be ok with that. But he was disappointed. To say the least.
When he went inside, he saw there were a bunch of men in the center of the main area. And a bunch of women formed a circle around them.
His domme told him to strip. One of the men gave him a hand putting the catheter and cage on. Then one tied him into a fetal position. It appeared he would be getting some attention afterall, but he just wasn’t sure how much and by whom. But since his domme was sitting with the other ladies, he was pretty sure it wasn’t by her.
And he was right.
Next Brad was blindfolded. Then he felt someone lubing up his anal area, inside and out.
First he felt plastic inside his butthole. Gently sliding in and out. Then when he was nice and relaxed, he felt the change to skin. Bareback. He counted on his domme picking clean men, and trusted that it would all be ok. He noticed that more than one guy was using him, and none came inside him. It was going to be a dry night.
Finally, he felt the switch to plastic again. And he heard a bunch of the people get dressed and leave.
He heard his domme’s voice as she thanked everyone for participating and saying goodbye.
He felt her arms come around him and she wrapped him in a blanket. Then she took off the blindfold. She asked if he was ok and he nodded. He was very tired and a bit sore, but ok yes.
She put a strap on and pushed it into his butthole. Then kissed him as she fucked him with the dildo. Brad was really enjoying seeing the pleasure in her eyes. Esp when she came.
He smiled at her and relaxed. His domme untied him and let him remove the catheter and cage.
Brad felt himself getting hard, now that he could. She gave him permission to masturbate, so he did. But when he got really close to shooting, she snapped her fingers against his tip. Bloody hell that hurt! And it succeeded in stopping his orgasm.
But in an odd way, he had never felt so satisfied.
His domme put a glove on and her fingers entered his anus. She stimmed his prostate until he was climbing the walls. She stopped and started a few times. Till she knew he was so super sensitive.
Finally she allowed him to cum. And cum and cum. And held him thru it. Until he almost lost consciousness in her arms.
Then she cuddled him again and asked if he was happy with the way his fantasy of being pegged had worked out.
He smiled and nodded weakly and fell asleep in her arms. She let him nap, then woke him to being kissed. For a moment, he wondered what she wanted. It seemed she wasn’t quite finished.
His domme retied and blindfolded him again and he felt a really thick arm being inserted into his butthole, slowly. Inch by inch. He felt his legs shaking and his stomach cramping. But he gritted his teeth until his body adjusted to the sensations. He’d never had anything so large inside him. And he wasn’t sure whether or not he liked it. Till a finger started to massage behind his testicles. Then he felt so good, he was glad she had arranged this as well.
He felt a cock beside his mouth, seeming to ask for permission to enter, so he started to lick and suck the tip. Then slowly allowed it entrance into his mouth, then throat. He was so turned on, he felt himself cum again. He couldn’t even tell where one ended and the next began. If he stopped at all. It was so good.
This time he did lose consciousness and was woken to spunk being splattered all over his face.
A cloth cleaned his face and he was let loose of the blindfold and rope again. He and his domme were alone again. And he was still lightly spasming and cramping. But he had a big grin spreading over his face.
His domme smiled back. and tenderly carressed his face as she kissed him once more. Then she told him to get dressed.
He followed her instructions and they went out to his car. She drove him home, then asked him if he was ok to be alone. He said yes. So she left.
Brad was thrilled with how things had gone. Even though it wasn’t at all what he had thought about all day as he waited for his time with her.
Brad wanted this to happen again. He was glad she was pleased with it too.
It was a really good thing for him to remember and look forward to again.

medicalizing, demonizing women’s health

Medicalizing, Demonizing Women’s Health

From the time we’re born, till the time we die, we are seen as Eve’s child by a system that is based on the Christian Bible and culture. The girl spawn is discarded; the pubescent is shamed for her body changes; the fertile woman is hidden while she goes thru natural processes, like a swelling body in pregnancy and breastfeeding and the menopausal woman is shamed again for no longer being fertile.
Women are more likely to be seen as mentally ill than men. But men are more likely to be seen as a criminal than women.
And we take these social stigmas onto ourselves, as if we are indeed the sinner or the hysteric for being a woman. And we take these on as markers of our ugliness, instead of being a beautiful woman, in her glory and full power. Of being part of the Goddess.
We are meant to support each other thru our changes, but often end up being jealous and mean to each other. We end up being catty. Instead of women caring for our own needs as our ancients used to do, we go to a paternalistic system of men who shame us for being unlike them. And are poked and prodded, instead of valued by our own.
We are forced to be science experiments where our parts are lopped off or added to, piecemeal, in the name of beauty and health, instead of cared for as whole beings.
Where we are compared to men and found wanting, by the fields of psychiatry and psychology.
Where young women and teens are hypersexualized, then blamed for bearing the consequences. And social services separate them from their child by slut-shaming them. Instead of blaming society and the men who had their favours. Creating many generations of broken families.
Creating a pink ghetto in the work force and demonizing the labour that women do for each other, ie midwives and doulas.
Blaming and shaming women who try to create our own styles of being, support and leadership of ourselves. And leaving us no seats at the tables of influence and power in the institutions of the world.
Doing everything they can to divide us, so they can continue to control our reproductive forces. Making death our solution, rather than life.
In this system, how do we care for ourselves and our mothers, sisters and daughters? When we don’t have the wealth or resources men (even within our class) do?
How can we rid ourselves of the stigma of being Eve’s child in a Christian health and legal system that demonizes us? How can we take back the models of our ancient mothers and sisters and still live in today?
Maybe you have answers, but I don’t. So I’m asking.

line em up ladies! (erotica)

Line Em Up, Ladies!

A few of my friends and I had a bet. We were always bragging about how good our subs were at oral. So one night we decided the jig was up. We needed to have a competition.
We formed a circle. All of us wearing long skirts and no panties. We sat in Adirondac chairs and tipped our butts up so they had easy access, without showing off our tasty bits to our fellow dommes.
One of the dommes and her partner were strict mono, so they handled the judging duties and stop watches.
The agreed upon rules were that the men could use only their mouths. Anywhere on the genitals and anal area and the bridge in between. No fingers.
And only the men could touch. The women weren’t allowed to masturbate to help them out. It was all about the mens’ skill.
The men kneeled in front of the domme they were paired with and waited for the whistle…

squeal!

Tongues and teeth started their work and the women didn’t take long to moan. And moan.
You could hear the slurping and moaning in the next room. Where a few dommes were gathered who didn’t want to participate. They started to giggle a bit. And a few had reactions to the audio show. A couple were even blushing. I mean, how do you stay staid of face when you know your sister domme is getting munched on? You know how it feels, right?
It wasn’t just about speed. The rules also had to be adhered to. Which the subs were doing really well at. They were very obedient.
Did I mention there was a moisture pad under the women, to see how much fluid collected? No? Well that was done also.
Finally, the first of the orgasms came… Those dommes and subs were tapped out and the pads collected. The others were given a chance to finish. Then their pads were collected. Pictures were taken and they were loaded into the computer and a program was run to see which dommes produced the most fluid. Obv it wasn’t the ones who came first. Right?
Finally a winner was called…
The woman had to cum , a lot, and the sub had to follow the rules. The sub was given a reward for being the best licker of the lot. The other subs gathered around him to ask for tips. Because they knew their game had to improve. Because the dommes were interested in doing this again.
And so were the subs!
The winning sub was given an honour guard of spankers for his enjoyment. And all of his cheeks blushed when it was over.
Does that sound like fun to you?
Sadly, I wasn’t the domme of the winning sub (pouts). My sub and I are working to improve his skills for the next challenge.

Dommie’s Date Night (erotica)

After a week of leading everyone else, and being sure they do what needs to be done, I need a break!
So I called a sub over for some good ole fashioned, romantic pampering and he answered my call.
Terence is a really, insanely good cook. And as foodie as I am, you have to know, I mean what I say. On his way over, he stopped at the market and picked up a few things I didn’t have in the house. So he could make me my fave meal. It’s scrumpdiliicious! Fettucini al fredo, lobster tails, and baklava with pears. Yummy! He would be well rewarded for this evening.
Then we put the stereo on and dance to romantic songs, like they haven’t made them since.
[Marvin Gaye][https://youtu.be/x6QZn9xiuOE] ,
[Teddy Pendergrass][https://youtu.be/T1uv-w5quH4] ,
[Luther Van Dross][https://youtu.be/c0lkpLgrrVo] and
[Sam Cooke][https://youtu.be/mrwfB4aAZZc] .
That line up always got us in the right mood to get cozy and kissy.
But then there came a point where things had to get steamy.
[Exile][https://youtu.be/8GymGszRFN8] and
[Rod Stewart][https://youtu.be/IZr6AE-u2UM] are always good for that.
By then we were too hot to just dance and kiss. We were grooving like we were in heat. And we went into the bedroom. We have a thing for comfort some nights (not always, but this was one of those comfort nights) and made quick work of helping each other get naked and laid out on the bed.
Terence did his subby duties of seeing that I was well good and ready for him. He massaged me with hot oils and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. Until I gave him the signal that I was ready for some oral loving. Of all things that Terence is good for, oral is my fave thing he does to and for me. He makes me melt like goo. Over and over… (wait! Wasn’t that Exile’s song? Tehehe!)
I do love a man who is in it for me. Though I often notice a wet spot I sure wasn’t in a position to create when I get up later…
After the lovemaking, Terence kisses me off to sleep and holds me gently as I nap. Then helps me shower off the body fluids when I wake. He is so considerate! I feel so much better after his pampering. 🙂

 

vigilantes

Vigilantes (a story)

Maybe my friends and I watch too many cartoons. We could either be crazy or jaded. They say we’d be the last to know. Probably true.
But every night we go to the worst parts of town. With knives in our black boots, throwing stars in our pockets, and whips in our hands. We wear dominos, black leotards and black jeans.
And we walk around looking for people who are being bad. Breaking the law, threatening people, and selling illegal goods.
Why would we do this, you might ask? Because we are tired of the system as it is. People who are innocent are getting locked up and people who are guilty are going free.
So we came together to do something about it.
We’re not the police and never were. We’re not the military and never were. But we are fit and fast. And furious. Because each of us has come up on the wrong side of the law, and barely survived it. Some were victims of crime. And some were accused falsely. We no longer trust the police to do right by the citizens of your city. Of our city.
We have stopped people being assaulted. Or raped, or murdered. We have stopped criminal acts. And all without shooting someone who was unarmed. All without profiling people by their neighbourhood, upbringing, family name, gender or skin colour.
We hold the trial out there among those who are impacted by that person’s acts. We don’t allow deals with the prosecution. And no judges are politicking in back rooms.
That makes a difference to how the truth gets heard. Their neighbours know their circumstances, unlike the lawyers and police do. They know how often there’s yelling in the house and cops at the door. How often a kid has a cast. How snotty or scared the kids are. How many empties are in the garbage bins.
And since we’re not cops or lawyers, they talk to us. So we get it all.
We get the context the court rarely does.
We take more than the five minutes doctors take to find out why this person is having a hard day. And whether or not they can be helped.
We don’t allow mobs either. We offer them participation in the trial. Truth. And that helps more than you know. The victim gets heard without being put on trial themselves. We hear from the family of the people in trouble.
You may call it a kangaroo court. But what is the alternative?
Lady Justice left the building long ago. Didn’t she?

Mr Short Cuts

Mr Short Cuts (a story)

Charles was the guy who wanted stuff, and wanted it NOW!. He didn’t want to have to work for it or wait for it to get it. Emotionally he had the patience of a toddler. The practicality of a small child.
So Charles would do things like steal to get the money for a lottery ticket, so he’d win and not have to work. EVER!
He’d hire himself out to his mom’s friends as their stud. They got a young guy on their arm, and they had sex with his fit body. In an hour, Charles made what most guys made in a week. And he’d buy more lottery tickets and go to the casino and spend it all.
That was Charles. Anything to make a quick buck so he could dream about the big bucks. He didn’t care if it was legal or not.
It wasn’t that he was lazy either. He ran for 10 miles everyday and power-lifted in competitions. His dad said to Charles that he wished Charles would put half that energy into keeping a job.
It got worse.
The crimes got bigger. He joined a gang, so he didn’t have to take all the risk himself. His only issue with that was that he had to share the reward.
When the lottery never panned out, he went to the casinos and played the one-armed-bandits. He didn’t win often, but when he did it usually made up for the money he spent at least.
He started looking for a sugar-momma. He got hired at the country club, which pleased his dad, till he found out why his son got the job. His mom was so humiliated by her son’s morals. They kicked him out of the house.
They couldn’t figure out what they’d done wrong.
He wasn’t technically a gold-digger, but the result would be the same. He wanted a woman as a purse, not a love.
But women with money are not stupid. They know that the cute boy who wants a woman his mom’s age usually aren’t that attracted to her. So they had a date or two with him, got their groove on, but aint no way!! he was getting into their houses, let alone becoming their husband.
So nothing was really working out for Charles. And he was losing his looks as he aged. It was taking longer to keep his physique at buff. And he was getting worried.
He needed to do something. Riskier.
So he planned a real crime. Something he could do alone that would bring him real money.
Charles bought a gun, he stole the gang’s drug money and drugs and sold it to the competition. He burned his bridges with them.
And he had to go on the run.
The money didn’t last long. So he had to start again.
But now he knew having real money could mean real fun. And he wanted more. Just more.
The only things that would stop Charles would be his death or getting caught. Going to prison. Like so many other Charles-types.
The road to short cuts is a cruel one. Money never lasts long and the risks are just too awful.
The only real way to get money is to learn how to do something the world needs and become excellent at it.
So the moral is: don’t be a Mr Short Cuts, like Charles.
His life is about to blow up.

secrets, lies and privacy

Secrets, Lies and Privacy

Privacy
You don’t have to tell everyone everything about your life. It’s important to learn who needs to know stuff. And who you can trust with keeping things confidential for you. It’s ok to have a sense of yourself as a separate being. Even if they’re a parent or spouse.
And be sure the story is yours to tell, as well. If a friend or family member tells you something that isn’t a risk to others, or something harmful, then it’s theirs to disclose as they will. You really shouldn’t gossip about other people’s lives.
eg. Nobody needs to know about your health issues, unless they’ll be a carer for you, or it’s something contagious and they’re intimate enough to get it from you. ie you have a cold/flu and they want to hug or kiss you, or you have an STD and they want to have sex with you. Something that impacts their health/safety or time, money and energy.

Confidentiality
There are some jobs, where you aren’t allowed (under penalty of the law and risk of job/license loss) to even tell your spouse what the identifying details are about your work and the people in it. You can say that you had a bad day, ie health care, that a patient died or a boss reamed you out. You just can’t get specific. To the point where they would know who you were talking about. They fairly need to know that you’re under more stress than usual though. No matter how good you are at separating your life/compartmentalizing, you bring home a bad mood and might take it out on them. Intentionally or not.

Lies

  • By Omission – something you deliberately don’t tell someone that it’s unfair or harmful to not tell them. ie you avoid subjects or pick a fight to avoid telling them something. More like gaslighting. It can also be charm or seduction. They are soft lies because you aren’t telling them the truth or the whole truth. You’re deflecting. Hypocrisy is also a lie by omission,or it mostly can be anyway.
  • By Commission – You deliberately feed them false information to cover up the truth. ie you said you were out at work, but were actually having an affair. Charm, seduction and hypocrisy can cross over into active lies as well.

Secrets
All of these types are secrets, and all of them can become lies.
The biggest division line for me is if the other person is put at risk, or harmed by what you withhold from them, then it’s a lie. IMO of course.

Do you agree?